


take a bite

by wearing_tearing



Series: Happy Steve Bingo [6]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Supernatural Elements, Beefy Bucky Barnes, Bloodplay, Fluff and Smut, Frottage, Hand Jobs, Happy Steve Bingo, Lust at First Sight, M/M, Mentions of Pierce and Rumlow being Terrible People, Post-Serum Steve Rogers, Snowed In, Vampire Steve Rogers, Werewolf Bucky Barnes, Writer Bucky Barnes, implied bottom Steve Rogers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-04
Updated: 2019-11-04
Packaged: 2021-01-23 01:49:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,875
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21312184
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wearing_tearing/pseuds/wearing_tearing
Summary: "I’d never let anyone freeze to death.” Steve gives a big sigh and flutters his lashes. “All that blood gone to waste.”Bucky’s lips turn down and his nose scrunches up a little. “I want to be grossed out, but…”“But you get it.” Steve gives him a pointed look. “Vampires aren’t the only ones who can appreciate how juicy blood is.”*Or: Vampire Steve saves newly-turned werewolf Bucky from a snowstorm.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers
Series: Happy Steve Bingo [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1139441
Comments: 63
Kudos: 735
Collections: Happy Steve Bingo 2019





	take a bite

**Author's Note:**

> square: snowed in
> 
> -
> 
> there is A Lot going on in this fic and i hope you like it <3

Steve hears the cursing from inside his cabin.

It’s a feat, really, considering the howling sound of the wind and the heavy snow falling outside, but Steve’s keen vampire hearing is able to pick up the low and rough cursing and chattering of teeth a few feet away from his door.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck _this_,” the voice swears. “It’s a full moon, Sam said. Go to the woods, Sam said. If you’re a wolf, then _be_ a wolf. Well, _fuck you, Wilson_. I’m gonna bite you when I see you again.”

Steve puts his book down and tries his best not to laugh. Whoever’s outside, this _wolf_, is caught in a pretty heavy snowstorm that, despite their warm skin and thick fur, will sure make them feel like they’re going to freeze to death.

That’s not something Steve would wish on anyone, having almost frozen a time or two when Natasha decided it’d be fun to trek across Europe during the 1940s. It wasn’t. Steve almost got frostbite, his least favorite kind of bite.

“F-f-_fuck_,” the wolf stammers, and Steve can hear their dragging steps through the snow.

They’re close, closer to Steve’s home than he first thought, and will undoubtedly stumble across it in three, two, on—

“Oh, fuck _yeah_,” the wolf hisses through his teeth as he makes his way up the porch steps. “Fuck, please be empty, please be empty, please be empt—”

The wolf shuts up when Steve opens the door, head snapping up in his direction, blue eyes flashing gold for a second before they seem to catch themselves. Steve takes in the state of the wolf, the _man_, and does his best not to let the blood he drank a few hours ago go to his head.

The wolf is covered in a thin layer of snow that clings to his long hair and shoulders. Even so, Steve can tell he’s _big_, packed with muscle, and possibly as strong as Steve’s gotten in the past thousand years. Steve can feel blood rush through his skin, making him feel warm, at the thought this wolf could probably pin him down if he wanted to.

Yet that strength doesn’t scare Steve. From the flash of gold a few seconds before, Steve’s pretty sure this is a pup, newly turned and still not all that comfortable in his new skin. Plus, his pink nose and chattering teeth do make him look more like prey than predator at the moment. There’s no doubt in Steve’s mind he could take him if the wolf were to turn aggressive. He’s had centuries to learn how to perfect his fighting style. So, he steps aside.

“Well, come on in before you catch your death,” Steve tells him, gesturing for the wolf to take shelter inside his warm cabin.

The wolf flicks his eyes from Steve to the woods and back again before he tilts his chin in a slight nod and hurries inside. “Thank you,” he starts once the door’s close and the warmth is trapped in the room. “I missed the huge ass snowstorm warning when I checked my weather app this morning.”

Steve’s lips curl up despite himself. “The weather’s a bit unpredictable around here.”

“No shit,” the wolf murmurs under his breath as he runs his shaking fingers through his hair.

Steve breathes in, familiarizing himself with the wolf’s scent. Woodsmoke and earth, the soft edges dampened by snow. He likes it. “I’ll let Carol know you don’t appreciate her mood,” is what he says instead.

“Why?” The wolf raises an eyebrow at him and there’s a teasing edge to his voice when he asks, “Does she control the weather or something?”

“Yup,” Steve replies. He lets his smile bleed through at the startled look on the wolf’s face, slipping a hint of fang, and is rewarded when the wolf’s scent sharpens and he hisses, bracing his feet as if reading for an attack and, in the process, dripping snow everywhere. He still looks like a rumpled puppy, hair wet and shaking with cold, but his willingness to fight at the first sight of danger, despite being at a disadvantage, is all it takes for Steve to offer him a kinder smile. “C’mon, there’s no need for that.”

Steve’s learned not to jump into unnecessary fights, even if he’d like to get this wolf under him. Or on top of him. He’s not picky.

“You’re a _vampire_,” the wolf spits out, nails shifted to claws and eyes gold once again.

“I am.” Steve nods. “And you need a change of clothes. I might have some stuff that fits you, but they will all smell like me.”

Not that Steve thinks that would be a bad thing. He’s pretty sure his own pinewood scent would match really well with the wolf.

The wolf blinks at him and hesitates for a second before he’s all sharp teeth and growling back at Steve. “You’re a _vampire_,” he says again. “I won’t let you come near me.”

“I don’t need to come near you,” Steve says, and then proves his point by speeding through the cabin, grabbing a towel and a change of clothes, and then coming back so he can stand right behind the wolf. It happens in less than five seconds. Steve’s vampire speed is useful sometimes, especially when he wants to show off to someone. And he _really_ wants to show off to this wolf. “You can leave the wet clothes by the bathroom door. Which is through the hallway, second door on the left.”

The wolf spins around so fast he almost trips on his own feet, a rumbling growl crawling its way past his throat and echoing through the cabin. He keeps growling until Steve shrugs in surrender and takes a step back, but not before offering the towel to him.

“Why are you doing this?” the wolf asks, gently grabbing it.

“Because you need help,” Steve says. _And also because I’m bored and you’re cute_, he thinks. It’s been a while since he’s had company as interesting as this wolf.

“But…” the wolf tilts his head to the side, brows furrowing. The picture of a confused puppy. “We’re enemies.”

Steve blinks, stumped. “What.”

“Exactly!” the wolf shouts. “You’re my enemy. Vampires and werewolves aren’t supposed to help each other.”

“What in the—” Steve cuts himself off. “Who turned you?”

“I’m not supposed to say,” the wolf murmurs, lips curling in distaste. And, as if to avoid Steve’s gaze, he takes off his coat and starts drying himself.

“Well, let me tell you they’re a fucking idiot, then,” Steve snaps. The wolf doesn’t look like he disagrees. He just keeps on cleaning himself up. “Vampires and werewolves aren’t enemies. That’s a big fucking lie that only exists in movies and TV Shows. The supernatural community helps each other. We don’t fight.” Steve then corrects himself, “Much. We don’t fight _much_. When were you turned?”

The wolf swallows. “Three months ago.”

Steve is right. He’s a _baby_.

“And whoever turned you didn’t bother to explain this?”

The wolf shrugs and then goes back to toweling his hair. “It’s not like I asked to be turned.”

Steve goes absolutely still. His reaction causes the wolf to mirror him, his golden eyes screaming caution when they catch Steve’s gaze. “You were turned without your consent?” Steve asks, voice completely lacking any kind of emotion. Not that he needs to convey some when his rage is evident in the burning bitterness of his own scent.

“Yes,” the wolf says very quietly. “I take it that’s not how things usually go?”

Steve’s the one to let out a growl now, angry and from deep inside his chest. “No, it fucking well isn’t.”

There are laws in place. Interviews. Paperwork to last a fucking lifetime, because this _is a fucking lifetime_. It’s a change that should only be done after a lot of thought and _explicit consent_.

“Oh.” The wolf’s own scent changes then, a mixture of anger and sadness and despair that makes the woodsmoke take on a rotten tone. “Well,_ fuck_ Rumlow.”

“_Brock_ Rumlow?” Steve asks as his lips curl back in a snarl and rage burns inside of him. He _knows_ Rumlow, knows his penchant for violence, knows how much of a huge fucking bag of smelley dicks he is, but Steve never thought he was capable of turning someone without their consent. “That spineless shitstained cowardly son of a _motherfucker_!”

The wolf lets out a startled laugh and then covers his mouth with the towel. “Sorry. That was just… _creative_.”

Steve snarls at him and then grabs his phone. “You change. I have some calls to make.”

“Wait.” The wolf wraps a hand around Steve’s wrist before Steve can dial. His skin is warm against Steve’s own. “You can’t call Rumlow.”

“I’m not calling _him_. I’m calling the head of the pack.”

The wolf blinks at him. “The who now?”

Steve goes still again. He counts to ten in his head, cursing the snowstorm that stops him from leaving and tearing Rumlow apart, limb for limb. “What Rumlow is doing goes against everything the supernatural community fought and stands for. It puts everyone in danger.”

“Is he gonna get punished?” the wolf asks.

Steve leans in and his smile isn’t very nice when he says, “He’s gonna get dead.”

The wolf swallows and his scent does a little funny thing where it turns distressed before it settles into something warm, relieved, and determined. “Okay.”

“Okay.” Steve’s eyes flicker to his wrist, which the wolf is still holding, and he tries not to look too disappointed when the wolf lets go. “You know where the bathroom is. Go shower and change. I’ll deal with this.”

“Okay,” the wolf says again, and then turns to leave. He stops himself after one step and looks back at Steve. “I’m Bucky, by the way. Bucky Barnes.”

“Nice to meet you, Bucky,” Steve says and finds that he means it. “I’m Steve Rogers.”

“Rogers?” Bucky smiles a little, nose wrinkling. “I thought vampires would have cool names.”

Steve hisses at him and feels quite pleased with himself when Bucky laughs and makes his way to the bathroom. His mood quickly turns back to anger and indignation when he places a call to T’Challa, head of all shifter packs.

“Captain,” T’Challa greets him after a few rings.

“I told you to stop calling me that,” Steve sighs, just as he hears the shower turn on. “I haven’t been a Captain in centuries.”

T’Challa laughs. “But it’s always so fun to tease you.”

“I’m not calling with something to laugh about.”

“What happened?” T’Challa asks, all humor gone.

Steve tells him about Bucky and the circumstances of his change, about his misconceptions regarding the status of vampire and werewolf relationships, about the stink of sadness and despair in his scent at finding out he should’ve had a say on becoming a wolf. T’Challa listens, but Steve can hear the faint growl growing from T’Challa’s side the more he speaks.

“He will be dealt with,” T’Challa promises. “Thank you for the call.”

Steve’s shoulders relax an inch. T’Challa always keeps his vows and he’s second in the top three list of most competent people Steve knows. Steve’s next call goes to the first place.

“Steven.”

“Natalia,” Steve drawls, smiling despite himself. Natasha is as old as he is and the person who taught him everything he knows about being a vampire. And while Steve has chosen to spend eternity doing whatever he wants, Natasha has chosen to spend it bossing everyone around. As head of the Vampire Council, she has succeeded.

“It’s Natasha now, as you well know,” Natasha says dryly and Steve can practically see her eyes rolling. “What trouble did you get into this time?”

“It wasn’t me,” Steve immediately defends himself. It was Bucky, who seems to be almost done with his shower if judging by the sound of the water shutting off. “It’s serious.”

“I’m listening,” Natasha replies, and stays quiet while Steve shares about Rumlow. If there’s a wolf causing trouble for vampires, Natasha needs to be aware. “Interesting,” is all she says after he’s done.

Steve narrows his eyes. “What do you know?”

“I know Rumlow won’t be around for long,” Natasha answers.

“_Everyone_ knows that,” Steve huffs. “What’s the secret?”

“We’ve been aware of him for a while, but not what he’s been doing,” Natasha explains. “Mostly because he’s been spending quite a lot of time with someone we know.”

“Who?”

“I’ll give you one guess,” Natasha says. “It starts with P and smells just as bad.”

“Ugh, _Pierce_,” Steve groans. He’s the worst of the worst, a human turned vampire only ten years ago, who thinks himself the king of New York and falls into every bad vampire stereotype out there. He only wears black and red, for fuck’s sake. “What have they been doing?”

“Creepy shit,” Natasha says without missing a beat. “You know Pierce’s been trying for my seat.”

Steve snorts. “_Trying_. You could murder him in his sleep. Hell, you could murder _me_ in my sleep and I’m as old and as strong as you are.”

“I’ve been bored,” Natasha says. “I thought letting him think he has a chance would be fun.”

“Until he started dealing with shifters.”

“Until he started conspiring to turn humans against their consent and put us all in danger,” Natasha corrects him. “You know I don’t care about dealing with shifters. Sharon’s one and she’s mine.”

“Tell her I said hi, by the way.”

“I will,” Natasha promises. “After I murder Pierce.”

“Have fun murdering!” Steve tells her right before Natasha sends him a smacking kiss through the phone and hangs up.

“That isn’t creepy at all.”

Steve turns at the sound of Bucky’s voice, his own getting caught in his throat at the sigh of Bucky in his clothes. Steve’s old flannel pants fit him just right, but the old gray hoodie he lent Bucky is tight across his shoulders, chest, and arms. Steve goes a little cross-eyed staring at him and isn’t helped by the way Bucky smells like a mixture of _them_, together.

“I haven’t murdered you?” Steve tries to offer, which isn’t as reassuring as he meant to be.

Bucky seems to take it in stride, though, if judging by the way he lets out a low chuckle that hits Steve right in the gut. “Thank you again for this,” Bucky says, gesturing to Steve’s clothes.

“Of course. Wolves need to warm.” So warm, even, Steve can smell the blood rushing to the surface of Bucky’s skin and turning his cheeks red. “Would you like something to eat?”

Bucky squints at him. “You’re not about to offer me a bag of blood, are you?”

“Of course not!” Steve answers. “Like I’d share the good stuff with you.”

Bucky gasps and clutches at his chest. “Shot through the heart.”

“I do have some hamburger patties, though.”

“That’d be nice,” Bucky says, licking his lips, Steve tries very hard not to follow the movement. “You know, before I have to brave the storm again.”

They both glance out the window, not that it does them much good. The snow is so thick and the storm so wild that all they can see is white.

“I don’t think you’re going anywhere for a few days,” Steve tells him, already doing the mental calculations of how much food he has in the cabin and where they’re going to sleep since there’s only one bed. Not that Steve really sleeps, but he likes to lie down sometimes and close his eyes and create made up scenarios in his head about things while he rests.

“Fuck,” Bucky groans and runs a hand through his hair. “Do you think I could borrow your phone? Just to let my friend know I’m not dead.”

Steve tosses Bucky his phone. “Knock yourself out. I’ll start on the hamburgers for you.”

Starting on the hamburgers means dropping them on a plate while Bucky talks on the phone. Steve knows wolves prefer raw meat to it cooked and he’s sure going to offer Bucky the best of what he has in the cabin. He also grabs a blood bag for himself and squeezes it until his favorite bat mug is full before sticking it in the microwave.

The sweet smell of warm blood and raw meat brings Bucky shuffling to the kitchen a minute later, his nose twitching. He zeros in on the hamburgers, pink tongue darting out to wet his lips.

“Go on,” Steve murmurs. “It’s all for you.”

Bucky darts a quick glance at Steve before pulling up a chair and sitting down at Steve’s wooden table. He pulls the plate closer and picks up one of the meat patties and glances up at Steve again.

“Cheers,” Steve says, lifting his mug at Bucky.

Bucky smiles a little before sticking half the patty into his mouth, his eyes fluttering shut as a moan of delight spills from him. Steve takes a sip of his blood and tries very hard not to squirm or think of other reasons for Bucky to be moaning. Not that he succeeds.

Steve used to have better self-control than this.

Then again, it’s been about thirty years since he came to live here, away from other beings. He’s rusty. And Bucky is _very_ attractive.

The patties are gone in under ten minutes. Bucky sighs and leans back in his seat, one hand resting over his stomach.

“Good?” Steve asks with a slight smile

“Very good, thank y— ” Bucky stops, eyes glued to Steve’s face. “Oh.”

Steve frowns. “What?”

“You…” Bucky gulps, eyes now falling to Steve’s lips. “You have blood on—”

“Oh, sorry.” Steve sticks his tongue out to lick at the corners of his mouth. He catches a sweet burst of taste when he passes his bottom lip. “Did I get it?”

Bucky doesn’t say anything, just nods, his eyes flashing gold for a second. Steve’s frown deepens. Bucky shouldn’t be scared of blood considering what he is. Steve figures he _could_ be scared of _Steve_ drinking blood, since until half an hour ago Bucky thought they were enemies. So Steve takes a deep breath to try and gauge Bucky’s reaction through his scent and then regrets his decision when he’s slammed in the nostrils by the most toe-curling and sweet warm scent of woodsmoke and earth with a hint of rain to it.

That isn’t a scared scent.

That’s a _horny_ scent.

Possibly the horniest scent Steve’s ever smelled in his _life_.

And _fuck_, does he want to roll in it.

Especially when Bucky’s nose twitches as he takes in a deep breath, certainly scenting the corresponding sweet warmth of Steve’s own arousal, and his eyes turn completely gold. They stare at each other, Bucky’s face flushing while the blood Steve’s just gulped down sends an answering blush crawling down his neck and chest. 

At least until Bucky clears his throat and asks, “So, vampires can eat real food?”

Steve blinks a few times to try and dispel the glaze of horniness from his brain. “Uh, yes, we can. Especially if we’ve just drank blood.”

“Cool,” Bucky whispers, and then shifts a bit in his seat. “Do you think you could tell me more about it?”

“About vampires?”

“And werewolves,” Bucky adds. One of his hands comes up to the back of his neck, scratching it. “Rumlow wasn’t all that forthcoming about… all of this.”

Steve tempers down the rush of anger he feels again at the mention of Rumlow. He’ll be dealt with soon enough and Bucky will find a supportive pack to take him in. “Of course,” Steve says. “Wanna go to the living room? I can set up the fireplace for us.”

Bucky smiles. “I’d like that.”

They settle down on Steve’s couch, keeping an arm’s length of space between them yet Steve can still feel the warmth of Bucky’s body near his own while the fire crackles.

“What do you want to know?” Steve asks.

Bucky lets out a deep breath. The next couple of hours are spent discussing everything from how the change is really supposed to go to supernatural support groups to what kind of creatures exist to how long Steve’s been alive.

Bucky stares at him with wide eyes. “Over a thousand years? _Really_?” 

Steve gives him a charming smile, letting his fangs slip. “I know I look good for my age.”

“Because everyone your age is _dust_,” Bucky snipes back.

“I see you don’t deny I look good, though,” Steve points out, and then chuckles when Bucky flushes and sputters.

Steve knows he does, period. This body is very different from the sickly one he had as a human and, despite Steve missing who he had been once, he’s learned to appreciate what this body can do.

“Shuddup,” Bucky mumbles. His cheeks are a little flushed and, while that might be because of the warmth from the fire, Steve wants to think he’s the one who caused it. “Am I expected to live that long?” he asks, voice shaking a little.

“No,” Steve answers. “Unless you share a soul bond with an immortal being.”

Bucky blinks. “A soul bond?”

“It’s like marriage?” Steve offers. “But more. And it’s forever. Your souls are tied to one another when you bond with someone, so you’ll live as long as your partner is alive. Or dead, in my case.”

Bucky shakes his head, looking a little overwhelmed. “I feel like this is all I’ve been saying all evening but… thank you again. For telling me all of this and for saving me from the snow.”

“You don’t have to thank me, Buck. For any of it. You should’ve been aware of everything before you were changed. And I’d never let anyone freeze to death.” Steve gives a big sigh and flutters his lashes. “All that blood gone to waste.”

Bucky’s lips turn down and his nose scrunches up a little. “I want to be grossed out, but…”

“But you get it.” Steve gives him a pointed look. “Vampires aren’t the only ones who can appreciate how juicy blood is.”

“I wouldn’t call it juicy,” Bucky mumbles and then licks his lips, “but yeah. Not something I expected when all of this happened.”

“You get used to it,” Steve assures him. “I spent my first three months as a vampire unable to put my fangs away.”

“What?” Bucky barks out a laugh, eyes crinkling at the corners.

“Yup. And I still hadn’t figured out how to speak with them on. There was so much hissing,” Steve groans, the hot flush of embarrassment rushing him at the memory of it.

Bucky’s laugh tapers down to a giggle. “A bad vampire stereotype, then?”

“The worst,” Steve agrees. “And how are you dealing with your new wolfy powers?”

Bucky shrugs. “Haven’t attacked anyone, so I think I’m doing okay.”

Steve’s lips press together as he tries to contain his sadness and anger. He reaches a hand out and lightly touches Bucky’s knee. “You are. You didn’t even shift full way when you thought I was a threat to you. That takes control.”

Bucky’s cheeks turn a shade redder and he glances down at where Steve’s touching him. “Thanks. _Again_.”

Steve squeezes Bucky’s knee, enjoying the muscles under his palm. He doesn’t remove his hand when he asks, “Anything else you’d like to know?”

“Two things.”

“Okay.”

“One of them is kind of embarrassing,” Bucky admits.

Steve raises an eyebrow. Interesting. “Do you want to start with the other one then?”

“Okay, but don’t feel like you need to answer it.” Bucky’s teeth worry at his bottom lip before he lets out a slow breath through his mouth. “Have you ever drank from a werewolf?”

Steve’s mouth goes dry. “Uh, can’t say that I have.”

“Oh.” Bucky seems like he doesn’t know whether to look happy or disappointed about this new information. 

“One of my friends has,” Steve continues. “It’s apparently really… _really_ good. Amazing, even.”

Bucky’s eyes widen and then he grins. “Must be nice, then.”

“I wouldn’t know,” Steve admits. He would _like_ to know, he thinks to himself as his gaze is drawn to the arch of Bucky’s neck, but he would never bite anyone without asking permission first. “And what’s your second question?”

“Uh.” Bucky shifts in place in a sort of embarrassed squirm and only stops when Steve squeezes his knee again. “Okay so, don’t judge me for this.”

“I promise I won’t.”

“Do werewolves…” Bucky closes his mouth then opens it again and then closes it one more time.

“Buck—”

“_Do werewolves have knots_?” Bucky rushes out, slamming his eyes shut and covering his face with his hands as soon as the words are out of his mouth.

Steve is stunned for about two seconds before he bursts out laughing, leaning forward until his forehead touches Bucky’s shoulder. “Do werewolves have—” he hiccups and lets out another peel of laughter. His body shakes with it.

“Stop laughing at me!” Bucky pokes him on the thigh. “This is important!”

“Just gimme—” Steve cuts himself off with a giggle, trying his best to calm himself down. “Just gimme a sec.” He takes a deep breath, which is only half a mistake since his face is practically plastered to Bucky, yet he finds that Bucky’s woodsmoke scent does wonders to settle him down. He pulls away with some reluctance and stares Bucky right in the face, lips still twitching. “Haven’t you looked at your dick since you got turned?”

“Of course I have!” Bucky snaps. His eyes are gold and there’s a hint of a growl in his voice. “But I haven’t, you know…” he trails off and gestures a hand down to his crotch and then groans to himself. “I can’t believe I’m telling you this.”

“That you haven’t jerked off in three months?”

“I’ve been worried!” Bucky cries out in despair. “And kind of scared.”

The last bit of Steve’s humor evaporates at that. He knows what it means to live in a body that doesn’t feel like his own.

“I’m sorry,” Steve apologizes when a quick rush of guilt slithers in his stomach. “I know. I get it. You’ve been scared to…”

Bucky stares up at the ceiling, avoiding Steve’s gaze. “I’ve been scared to jerk off, you can say it.”

“To jerk off,” Steve complies, “because you didn’t know if you’d pop a knot.”

“Yeah, I mean,” Bucky shrugs, “I haven’t changed all that much physically since I was turned, aside from the claws and the golden eyes and fangs and being able to turn into a full wolf, but all the werewolf fanfic—”

“_All the werewolf fanfic_,” Steve repeats, absolutely delighted.

“I had to get my information from somewhere, okay?” Bucky grumbles.

“And you picked fanfiction,” Steve points out.

Bucky pinches the bridge of his nose. “It seemed like a good idea at the time.”

“And they all said werewolves have knots.”

“Not all of them, but the great majority, yes.”

“Well,” Steve muses, “I’m sorry to disappoint you but, as far as I’m aware, werewolf shifters do not have knots. Not that there would be anything wrong if they, and you, did.”

Bucky swallows and his shoulders relax a bit. “I don’t know if I’m disappointed.”

“Want to go masturbate and check?”

Bucky sputters and stares at him like Steve just offered to personally give him a handjob. Which, Steve wouldn’t really be opposed to.

“_No_, thank you,” Bucky says. “I know your hearing is as good as mine. Unless I went to jerk it under the storm, you’d be able to listen.”

“I wouldn’t mind,” Steve says and slowly trails his gaze down Bucky’s body. “Would you?”

Bucky swallows, but he doesn’t say no. Instead, he asks, voice taking on a low rumbling tone that sends shivers down Steve’s spine, “Do you flirt with every wolf you give shelter to?” 

“No.” Steve shakes his head. “Just the ones named Bucky.”

Bucky’s lips witch like he wants to smile but he’s stopping himself. “Smooth.”

“Thank you. I’ve had a thousand years of practice.”

Bucky snorts and leans in a tiny bit closer to Steve. “This is a bad idea.”

“I don’t see why.” Steve slowly slides his hand up from Bucky’s knee to his thigh. “We’re both adults able to consent, we’re attracted to each other, and we’re snowed in for the next few days. What better way to pass the time than finding out what your body can do?”

“Some books on your shelves seem interesting,” Bucky replies with a slight smile. “You even have J. Barnes' new Winter Soldier series.”

“The Winter Soldier isn’t as pretty as me,” Steve argues.

Bucky’s slight smile turns into something softer just as his woodsmoke scent takes on a hint of rain again. “No, he isn’t,” he murmurs, and then closes the distance between them to catch Steve’s lips in a kiss.

Bucky tastes as good as he looks and kisses like he’s starved for it. He licks his way into Steve’s mouth in a slow and all-consuming way that makes Steve whine softly in the back of his throat and willingly give himself up to whatever Bucky wants to do with him.

Bucky’s reply to the soft and desperate sounds coming from Steve is to press in closer, one hand curling on the back of Steve’s neck while the other one pulls at his waist. Steve lets himself be manhandled, his arms coming up to wrap themselves around Bucky’s shoulders, and doesn’t protest when Bucky pushes him down on the couch and settles on top of him. Their scents mix together in the small space between them, electric with want.

“_Fuck_,” Bucky swears against Steve’s lips when Steve gets a thigh between his legs. His eyes are all gold now and there’s a healthy flush on his cheeks that kind of makes Steve want to bite him.

“We could,” Steve suggests, and then has to bite down on his bottom lip to fight back a moan when Bucky’s hips jerk against his. 

“Won’t last long enough for that,” Bucky gasps and his hips stutter again.

“Three months without jacking off,” Steve says in a knowing tone.

Bucky’s laughter is a mix of humor and despair. “Three months without jacking off. Damn if I’ll come in my pants, though.”

Steve hums in agreement and pulls Bucky into a quick and dirty kiss before pushing him away. “Then clothes off, honey.”

“Honey?” Bucky arches an eyebrow, but his amused expression disappears behind his borrowed hoodie when he pulls it up to take it off.

“I don’t know. It slipped,” Steve admits, too distracted by the beautiful sight of Bucky’s chest and stomach to consider just how embarrassing that is.

Bucky is _packed_, solid and muscled in a way that isn’t about looking sculpted but about being strong enough to fuck someone up. There’s a smattering of hair on his chest and down his tummy, trailing down to places Steve wants to get his mouth on, and he looks so fucking _good_ Steve doesn’t know what to do with himself.

“You know you said that out loud, right?” Bucky asks in between a grin, cheeks pink and eyes so bright and smug that Steve has to kiss him again.

“I don’t care. I meant what I said.”

“That I look so good you don’t know what to do with yourself?” Bucky teases.

“That sounds about right.”

Bucky snorts and nuzzle his nose against Steve’s, mixing more of their scents together. “You should get naked. I’m sure you’ll figure out what to do then.”

The words are barely out of Bucky’s mouth before Steve is already ripping his sweater off his body and squirming out of his pants. Bucky laughs at him and helps him get undressed, but the laughter abruptly cuts off when Steve pulls down his underwear. 

Bucky stills, eyes slowly trailing all over Steve’s body, taking him in. Steve tries not to shiver. It’s not often he feels like prey, but the heat in Bucky’s eyes and the added layer to his scent makes Steve want to give chase and get caught.

Steve doesn’t run, though. He only lies back on the couch, naked and hard and with warm blood pulsing through his veins, and stares at Bucky right back. He smiles a little, a small curve of his lips that shows a tiny bit of fang, and then flicks his eyes to the obvious bulge tenting Bucky’s borrowed pants.

“Well,” Steve drawls out, “it’s your turn.”

Bucky growls, a low and rough sound Steve’s becoming familiar with, and kicks off his pants. Steve’s breath hitches in his throat and his mouth waters at seeing Bucky like this, completely bare to him and _very_ interested in what’s going on.

“See?” Steve says, eyes glued to Bucky’s cock. “No knot.”

Bucky chokes a little and then lets out a strangled, “Oh my _god_,” before flopping down on top of Steve on the couch.

Steve snickers and hugs Bucky to him, loving the feeling of Bucky’s body against his own and how their scents complement each other, and kisses the side of Bucky’s head. “I can take a better look for you, if you want.”

“Oh?” Bucky lifts his head, a smile teasing at the corner of his mouth. “I guess you’d have to get pretty close, huh?”

Steve nods. “And hands on. If that’s okay with you.”

Bucky kisses Steve then, sweet and languid and until they’re both breathless. “Yeah, that’s okay with me.”

Steve doesn’t go straight for Bucky’s dick. He runs his hands over Bucky’s hair first, enjoying the softness of it, before sliding them down Bucky’s shoulders, his back and sides, his ass. Bucky hums when Steve cups his asscheeks, the hard line of his cock twitching against Steve’s stomach, and there’s a sharpness to the next kiss he pulls Steve in.

Steve answers in kind, nipping at Bucky’s bottom lip with his fangs at the same time he reaches between them and wraps a hand around Bucky’s cock.

“_F-fuck_, do that _again_,” Bucky hisses, his arms tense where they bracket Steve’s head.

“Touch your dick?” Steve asks and then swipes a thumb over the wet head of Bucky’s cock.

“_Steve_,” Bucky groans, eyes fluttering shut as he rocks into Steve’s fist. “I didn’t mean that.”

Steve stops his movement and frowns at Bucky. “Do you want me to stop?”

“No!” Bucky opens his eyes and shakes his head. His eyes are still gold, though a flicker of blue shines through when he takes a deep breath and stares down at Steve’s mouth. “I meant…” he licks his lips, “with the fangs?”

“Oh. _Oh_.” Steve grins. He can work with that. He can also offer Bucky something else, “You can, too. With your fangs.”

Bucky goes a little cross-eyed at that, eyes glazing over and mouth going slack. Steve kisses those plump lips once, twice, three times until Bucky gets enough blood back on his brain to kiss him back, and then Steve gives a light bite to Bucky’s bottom lip.

It’s not enough to draw blood, not even close, but it’s enough to make Bucky’s back arch and his entire body shudder. Steve grins and shifts a little so he can get line their cocks and get a hand around both of them, all the while kissing the corner of Bucky’s mouth, his jaw, his neck, right until he rakes his fangs over Bucky’s pulse point.

It’s a good decision on his part. Both because of the heat pooling in his gut with every movement of his hand, but also because Bucky growls and curls a hand through Steve’s hair, gripping him tight so he can pull Steve’s head back until Steve is the one baring his throat. Bucky kisses him then, with fangs and all, rough and deep and like he wants to eat Steve alive.

Steve wouldn’t mind.

He so wouldn’t mind that when Bucky’s fangs catch on his tongue, instead of shying away, he goes for it. The sharp sting of pain is nothing compared to the sweet taste of blood when it floods his mouth. At least until Bucky wrenches away from him and kneels on the other end of the couch.

“What—” Steve starts to say, but then stops himself at the expression on Bucky’s face.

It’s pure awe shining through Bucky’s eyes, like this is something he never knew he wanted and now can’t believe he’s got it. There’s blood on his mouth, _Steve’s blood_, and Steve can tell by the way Bucky licks his lips and his scent thickens that he loves it.

Steve smiles, teeth bloody and fangs out, and says, “It’s okay to bite.”

“You’re going to be the death of me,” Bucky breathes out, and then reaches for him again.

Steve has been the death of many people, but not Bucky’s.

Bucky, he will keep.

Bucky, who whispers, “It’s okay to bite me too,” and ruts against him when Steve wraps his thighs around his waist, who licks the blood off Steve’s mouth, who kisses and holds him and bites him until more blood runs down their chins and necks and leaves them sticky with it. And Steve gives as good as he’s got.

Bucky’s blood tastes like nothing Steve’s ever had before, thick and fresh and as strong as its wolf. It makes his dead heart beat in his chest again, fast and tripping over itself, until Steve is gasping and clutching at Bucky’s shoulders and tipping over the edge. Pleasure crashes through him in slow waves and steals the air from his lungs, leaving him a pliant mess under Bucky’s strong body.

“Honey,” Steve murmurs when he’s come back to himself, lips brushing against Bucky’s jaw when he says, “come for me.”

Right before he tips his head down and bites Bucky in the neck.

Bucky howls and comes, spilling hot over Steve’s stomach, his own fangs coming down to bite down on Steve’s shoulder. Steve holds him through the aftershocks, licking Bucky’s neck clean and basking in the absolute mess that they’ve made of themselves, until Bucky lets go of his shoulder and presses a small kiss to the wounds on Steve’s skin.

“Sorry,” Bucky says, voice hoarse and all kinds of wrecked.

Steve smiles at him and kisses his cheek. “Nothing to be sorry for. This was the best sex I’ve had in… probably _centuries_.”

Bucky snorts and nuzzles in close, tongue darting out to lick at the blood on Steve’s chin. “I don’t know if that’s sad or if I should be flattered. We didn’t even do anything fancy.”

“Definitely flattered. We don’t need fancy for it to be good,” Steve answers. He then snakes a hand between them and wraps it around Bucky’s spent cock. “And see? Still no knot.”

Bucky twitches and buries his face against Steve’s neck. “Are you going to bring that up every time we’re naked together?”

“Just right now,” Steve reassures him. “And maybe after you fuck me.”

“Someone’s sure of themselves,” Bucky murmurs.

“I’ll let you bite me again,” Steve offers.

Bucky stills on top of Steve and then relaxes again when he sees Steve smiling. “That was really good,” he says, a little shy and embarrassed, like he didn’t expect it to like it so much.

“I know, honey,” Steve kisses him once, soft and chaste. “Imagine how good it will feel if you bite me when you’re inside me.”

“_Steve_,” Bucky groans and bumps their foreheads together. “I’m still recovering.”

Steve laughs and kisses the tip of Bucky’s nose. “Poor Bucky. Was it worth the wait?”

Bucky stares at him, eyes clear and blue, and smiles. “Do you mean was it worth not coming for three months and then having this happen?”

“That’s exactly what I mean.”

Bucky answers by leaning in and kissing him slow and very sweet. “I’m not really fond of how I got here, but I like where I am.”

Steve brushes Bucky’s hair away from his face. “Yeah, I can agree with that. Want to take a shower together?”

“Thought you’d never ask.”

They snuggle naked in Steve’s bed after they’re all cleaned up, with Bucky wrapping himself around Steve’s body and sticking his face against Steve’s neck.

“You smell good,” Bucky murmurs and takes a deep breath, a deep rumbling sound coming from his throat.

“Makes sense, since I smell like you.”

“My Steve, yes,” Bucky readily agrees and holds him tighter.

“My honey, yes,” Steve says back, impossibly fond. “Want to try what I mentioned earlier?”

When Bucky glances up at him, his eyes are all gold.

And what follows is _definitely_ the best sex Steve’s ever had in… probably a thousand years.

That’s how they spend the next three days while the snow keeps falling outside: having sex, spilling blood, and talking about whatever comes to mind. They get to know each other, little by little. Steve learns that Bucky turns into a sobbing mess when he’s getting rimming while Bucky finds that Steve can come just from nipple play. They learn of their shared love for Fantasy stories and their obsession with true crime podcasts. Steve tells Bucky of his own transformation, and Bucky shares about his life before being turned. They take turns switching, but they both love best when Steve’s the one getting fucked.

On the morning of the fourth day, they wake up to bloody sheets and the scent of _them_ and _sex_ in the air. The morning is clear, and when Steve sneaks a glance outside his window, he can tell the storm’s long passed. He pokes Bucky, who grumbles and tries to bury his face between Steve’s pecks.

“Buck, wake up,” Steve whispers. “It’s not snowing anymore.”

“It isn’t?” Bucky scrambles to get up. His foot gets caught in one of the blankets and he almost crashes to the floor, but his quick reflexes mean he’s up and at the window not a second later. The morning light catches on his naked body and he is one of the most beautiful beings Steve’s ever seen. “Oh, sweet. This means I can go back.”

“Right,” Steve says, and can’t help the disappointed edge to his tone and the bitter curl to his scent. He’s going to miss Bucky, but he has no right to make him stay.

Bucky turns to him, nose twitching once before he catches on to what’s going on. His expression smooths out and he takes three sure steps to the bed before sitting down next to Steve. He grabs Steve’s hand and tangles their fingers together.

Steve’s dead heart tries its best not to break.

“You know,” Bucky starts, “we talked a lot this weekend, but I don’t think I told you about my life _now_ as a werewolf. Just… some of the before.”

“No, you didn’t,” Steve says cautiously. He doesn’t really know where Bucky’s going with this, but he’s willing to listen.

“Well, you know my family’s up in the countryside and I hadn’t seen them for a while even before I got bitten.”

“I do...”

“And when the whole,” Bucky makes a face, “thing with Rumlow happened, I was living alone in the city. My buddy Sam only knows what happened to me because he tracked me down to Rumlow’s place and threatened to curse me if I didn’t tell him what was going on.”

“Curse?” Steve asks in surprise.

“He’s human, but he knows people,” Bucky says with a hint of pride. “He helped me get away.”

Steve is hit with a rush of gratitude for Sam. “Is this the same Sam who sent you out there during a snowstorm?”

“He didn’t know there was going to be a storm!” Bucky protests and then frowns at himself. “I don’t _think_. But yeah, he’s the one who told me to come out here so I would learn to be more comfortable with the whole wolf thing.”

“Not sure he meant for you to find me.”

“Still worked.” Bucky squeezes Steve’s hand. “Maybe not in the way we thought it would, but it worked.”

“Yeah,” Steve breathes out and squeezes Bucky’s hand back.

“So anyway, I was away from my family, I lived alone in the city and I had made only one friend since I got there,” Bucky continues, “which is why Rumlow picked me, I think. He thought no one would miss me.”

Steve snarls at that, but promptly swallows the sound back when Bucky raises Steve’s hand to his lips and kisses his knuckles. “Buck…”

“There was also the bonus of me working from home,” Bucky tells him, “so no coworkers or would notice me being gone. At least not for a while.”

Steve blinks. “You work from home?”

Bucky flushes a little at that and avoids looking Steve in the eye. “So, about that…”

“What?” Steve leans in and tugs at Bucky’s hand. “What is it? What do you do?”

Bucky clears his throat and still refuses to meet Steve’s eyes. “You know your bookshelves?”

“Of course I know my—” Steve gasps. “You’re an author!”

Bucky cringes. “Yes?”

“Which books?” Steve pulls Bucky to him and wraps his arms around Bucky’s waist, bringing their faces so close their noses touch. “Tell me.”

Bucky swallows and stares at the ceiling. “My full name is James Buchanan Barnes.”

Steve grins so wide his cheeks hurt. “J. Barnes! I love your books.”

So much so Steve has about 10 of them on his shelves.

“I noticed.” Bucky’s cheeks and nose are pink and he flushes even deeper when Steve pecks him on the mouth. “It’s no big deal.”

“Bucky,” Steve gives him a pointed look, “your first trilogy is going to be adapted into a TV series.”

Bucky shrugs and rests his forehead against Steve’s. “My point _is_—”

“That you’re not only gorgeous, but you’re also successful,” Steve finishes for him.

Bucky pokes him in the stomach and bites back a smile when Steve yelps. “My point _is_, aside from Sam, there’s nothing holding me to the city. Rumlow is probably dead by now—”

“Good fuckin’ riddance,” Steve chimes in.

“And I’m sure Sam would be happy to have me off his couch,” Bucky continues, “which is where I’ve been staying, by the way, since I got away from Rumlow.”

Steve’s arms tighten around Bucky and he tries to push down the hope burning in his heart. “So what are you saying?”

“I mean, it might be weird and it’s definitely too fast but,” Bucky gulps, “I could maybe hang around here. For a while.”

“Is that… something you’d want?”

Bucky sighs and nuzzles Steve’s cheek before he presses a barely there kiss to his lips. “Yes.”

“Then I’d love to have you here,” Steve replies softly and chases Bucky’s mouth until they’re kissing again. “Honey.”

Bucky laughs into Steve’s next kiss, bright and loud, before pushing him back down on the bed. And he stays, not only for a while but, after they soul bond a few years down the line, through the next thousand years and beyond.

**Author's Note:**

> you can find me on: [twitter](https://twitter.com/wearing_tearing), [dreamdwith](https://wearing-tearing.dreamwidth.org/), and [tumblr](http://hawkguyz.tumblr.com/) ~


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